


I taste a liquor never brewed

by middlemarch



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Consequences, F/M, Female Friendship, Hangover, Marriage, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 04:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: Emma understood now why Matron Brannan had laughed so heartily when she saw where they were going.





	

“What do you have to say for yourselves?” Mary asked, her hands on her hips, her tone firm enough that Emma felt the men were already chastened and Anne Hastings had begun to sidle from the room, knowing she had not even the faintest claim on the moral high ground.

“S’not so very bad, May, can’t blame a man for ex-ped-pet-perimentin’ a little,” Jed Foster slurred, his gestures loose as his tongue. Henry only laughed but it was a sound Emma had never heard before, a thoughtless, empty sound and she couldn’t help peering at the bottle, which was half-full yet.

“Madame Baroness, forgive us,” Byron Hale began, then ruined any impression of polite gravitas with a loud hiccough and belch. “We couldn’t have known the spirits would be so…strong.” He ended with another hiccough, somehow even louder.

“Whatever possessed you? Jedediah, this kind of behavior is not fitting for the chief medical officer of a Union hospital. I daresay it’s not fitting for the least among men, let alone those who are elevated,” Mary said. Anne took the opportunity to slip out, Emma saw, waiting for Mary’s voice to become nearly strident. The men were transfixed by her, for all they struggled to fix their gaze upon anything. Henry shifted as if he would stand and slumped over onto Dr. Foster’s shoulder, blinking in confusion.

“It’s a parting gift from your nem-enem-sis, your nemesis, that bastard Bullen…we found his still, these bottles, needed to see if they were any good,” Dr. Foster explained.

“How could you imagine any good would come from that man?” Mary cried, not even bothered by her husband’s use of obscenity as much as the intoxication of the senior officers of Mansion House and the mention of the unlamented Silas Bullen, who had succumbed, ignominiously, to a case of dysentery after escaping death so many times before. Emma could imagine worse things than a secret still in the bowels of the hospital, but knowing the source, she considered the men had taken an indefensible risk in drinking the liquor the man had distilled.

“Shit makes the best fertilizer, May, you know that. But this stuff’s terrible, horrid,” Dr. Foster went on, making Emma blush to hear the way he spoke, the way he unknotted the cravat at his neck.

“I shouldn’t scold you any more, you’ll all pay with the most awful headaches tomorrow, don’t laugh again, chaplain, your prayers won’t save you,” Mary said, sighing. “Emma, please call for some orderlies and Dr. Foster and I will need a carriage to get home, I don’t dare let him walk like this through the streets.”

“You’re pretty, Emma, like a little flower,” Henry interrupted. Dr. Hale hiccoughed again and Dr. Foster heaved a sigh.

“Young love, May…young love,” he mumbled and Mary made a sound like a choked laugh.

“We must hope Nurse Hastings is up to the task of running the place tomorrow. I’ll see that Dr. Foster is ready by mid-morning, you can tell her for me. And I’ll try to send over some fresh bread and eggs if Julia’s got us any. They’ll need a proper breakfast,” Mary said, surveying the three inebriates with a queer fondness.

“That man was nothing but corruption and filth. Good riddance,” Mary remarked, then held out a hand to her husband. “Come along now, Jedediah. Let’s get you home. Try not to make a bigger fool of yourself than you already have.”

“You’ve married well, Foster. Good evening, Baroness,” Dr. Hale said, then closed his eyes and snored. Emma nodded at her friend, spared a glance for Henry, who smiled stupidly at her, and sniffed. There was no sense in talking anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a vignette to amuse myself on a Friday night-- getting rid of Bullen, seeing the men drunk on bad moonshine, letting Mary rail a little... And I finally got to use a famous Emily Dickinson title.


End file.
